


Mirror Mirror on the Wall (You're the Fairest of Them All, Love)

by AceMoppet



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Genderfluid Katsuki Yuuri, Hurt/Comfort, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet
Summary: “You’re not too much, Victor.”





	Mirror Mirror on the Wall (You're the Fairest of Them All, Love)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It's Ace here, back at it again with some pointless fluff with an eensy bit of angst. I was inspired by the art that I linked here:
> 
> [Amazing Art by 木綿](http://sleep-furiously.tumblr.com/post/169920292426/miyakuli-permission-to-post-from-their-pages?utm_campaign=SharedPost&utm_medium=Email&utm_source=TumblriOS)
> 
> The eyes were so expressive and the whole art is so amazing! Please go reblog, but do remember: don't repost, edit, or remove any credits!
> 
> Thanks guys! If there are errors, please let me know!

“You know,” Victor says softly, comb gently running through Yuuri’s hair one last time before he sets it down. “I've always wanted to take care of my partner like this.”

 

Yuuri stops playing with his blue bracelet and looks at Victor through the mirror, one eyebrow lifted. “Oh?”

 

“Mm.” He runs his fingers through Yuuri's hair carefully, like Yuuri is the most precious thing he’s ever seen, let alone touch, and something about the tenderness of it all makes Yuuri ache sweetly.

 

“Did you ever?”

 

Victor stops, fingers ever so slightly tightening in Yuuri's hair before he starts running them through again. It’s a while before he speaks. “I… wanted to,” he repeats, before cutting himself off once more.

 

Yuuri doesn't talk, doesn't even open his mouth to do so, and yet Victor hears the unspoken  _ but? _ as clearly as if he had.

 

“... They wouldn't let me. It was too much, apparently.” Victor chuckles bitterly, and his fingers are slowing down now, almost as if he's about to stop.

 

“You're not.”

 

Victor looks up, and his breath catches. Yuuri’s staring at him, dark eyes deep and determined. His gaze cuts through his paper-thin masks, destroys the crumbling mortar in the weakened wall around his heart that once used to be tall and strong, and it settles so deeply in his soul that Victor wants to run away, pull back because he feels so…  _ vulnerable. _

 

And yet…

 

There’s something in Yuuri’s eyes, something he can’t describe that makes him want to see this to the end. It makes him want to stay.

 

And so he keeps his gaze locked surely with Yuuri’s even as his unsteady, trembling fingers lock tighter into Yuuri’s hair.

 

“Yuuri…” he finally pleads, wanting something more than a simple two word phrase and those eyes gazing at him with something so unfathomable yet so familiar.

 

“You’re not,” Yuuri says again, this time more insistently. “You’re not too much, Victor.”

 

And that. Even though Victor had never said it aloud, had taken the fear and either buried it so deep it couldn’t be found or had dressed it up in pretty little feathers of humor that usually invoked light laughter and a disbelieving shake of the head. For who could ever believe that he, Victor Nikiforov, who was always so unapologetic about himself, worried about being _ too much? _

 

Victor swallows. What can he say to that? What is he  _ supposed  _ to say to that?  _ Should _ he even say anything at all? What is he supposed to do-

 

All of Victor’s thoughts fly abruptly out of his head when Yuuri takes one of Victor’s hands and pulls it gently down to his mouth. His breath catches in his throat when Yuuri gently turns the palm to face him, and, without facing away from Victor in the mirror, kisses the center of his palm. He trails his lips up to Victor’s ring, which is snugly nestled around his finger, and kisses that too. And in all this time, he never looks away from the mirror, never looks away from Victor.

 

Before Victor can say anything, Yuuri pats his hand and gently lifts it to place it on his head again. Instinctively, Victor’s fingers curl themselves into Yuuri’s locks, strands of hair slipping through the spaces between his fingers. 

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri calls, and Victor’s eyes drop to meet Yuuri’s gaze once more in the mirror. This time though, Yuuri is smiling softly, with an even softer gaze, turning the brown of his eyes into the sweetest brown sugar.

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri says again, hand coming up to pet Victor’s wrist right over his pulse, “Comb my hair please?”

 

And  _ oh. Oh.  _ This is an intimacy Victor had never thought he’d be able to feel, had dreamed of for so long and now it was here, right in front of him. This intimacy, this moment, makes his blood rush heatedly to his cheeks while also cooling his feverish worries, makes his head feel dizzy while also steadying his feet, makes his heart race and leap in giddiness while also soothing him so sweetly he might fall asleep. This is… this is love, isn’t it? And this is real. Oh god, this is  _ real.  _

 

So he swallows again but starts combing his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. And when he looks once more into the mirror, meeting Yuuri’s soft, sweet gaze, he smiles.


End file.
